


Down Will Come Baby

by WhoopsOK



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Caregiver Sam Winchester, Age Play Little Castiel (Supernatural), Age Play Little Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Amara and Chuck Shurley Make Up, But That's Not the Point, Damp Verse, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Related Consent Issues, Lucifer!Castiel, M/M, Multi, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: “I have to hand it to you, Sammy,” Lucifer says and Sam is so enraged it blacks out the fear he should be feeling in the face of the Devil. “I knew Castiel was messed up over Pop leaving, but finding another one? How twisted.”(Lucifer is possessing Castiel. Sam and Dean do not take it well.)





	Down Will Come Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Inspired by my Damp verse, but it’s getting posted alone because it’s not actually a part of that timeline.
> 
> Ok! So get this! TheSkyWriter gave me this prompt four score and seven forevers ago and at the time I didn’t really know what to do with it, but then I was feeling some feelings recently and decided to give it a shot. Buyers beware, I took some liberties with canon ~~(as in ignored a whole lot of it because I’m not sure I ever even finished watching s11 oops??)~~ , but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> For reference, the idea reaches from around 11.14+.

Sam doesn’t want it to go down this way, he really doesn’t, but he carries enough guilt to understand that even this is less than he should be obligated to do.

“Use my soul,” he says, because the world needs Dean Winchester back in the present, they need the Hand of God. They’d brought the Darkness on the world, them and their warped little love story, and they would have to suffer for it. There isn’t really a risk they _can’t_ afford to take right now and, no matter how much it may hurt, Sam thinks Castiel will understand that objectively.

So imagine his surprise when Castiel laughs.

Castiel laughs _at him_ , and Castiel has never laughed like that in the entirety of their life together, he’s never made _anything_ like that sound.

“I don’t _need_ you,” Castiel says, laughing so hard he can hardly get the words out.

“Wha—?” Sam begins, but when Castiel looks back up at him, he rears back, the breath forced out of his chest. The smile on his face cuts Sam to the heart, he spent _hundreds of years_ screaming at the sight of that smile. “ _Lucifer_.”

“Hi _Daddy_ ,” Lucifer sings teasingly and with a flick of his wrist, Sam is crashing into the far wall.

The pain of his head bouncing off the brick gives him a second of blackness over his vision in which he wants to pretend, a chorus of _no, no, no_ , taking over because this, _this_ can’t happen, it _can’t._ But his vision clears and there’s _that smile_ taking over Castiel’s face as Lucifer walks towards him.

“I have to hand it to you, Sammy,” Lucifer says and Sam is so enraged it blacks out the fear he should be feeling in the face of the Devil. “I knew Castiel was messed up over Pop leaving, but finding another one? How _twisted._ ” He shakes his head, sounding almost proud, “You fucked him up pretty good!”

“You get the fuck out of him,” Sam growls, but then Lucifer’s powers are closing around his throat and he can hardly even draw breath.

“I don’t think so. You know, I actually kinda like it!” Lucifer wiggles as if snuggling into Castiel’s body like it’s a blanket. “It’s all _soft_ in here. He can sit back and let someone else pilot, just like he likes—well,” he scrunches his face. “Maybe not _just_ like he likes, _poor baby_ ,” and it’s the same taunting voice he’d used to say “ _Poor Sammy_ ” whenever he conjured up Dean’s face and peeled the flesh off Sam’s bones. He smiles, “We both know I can make lil’ Cassie cry harder than you can.”

And Sam is sick, he’s so _sick_ , baby Cassie is not for hurting; when he’s little and scared, Cassie is for loving and Sam is going to _kill_ the devil. He always aspired to, but now he has to. No one who abuses his baby can be allowed to exist. He can feel himself pulling apart as he tries to force himself out of Lucifer’s grip, terrified and livid.

Lucifer just chuckles at his rage. “So yeah, you know what? I _don’t_ need your power, but I’m going to take it anyway.” His breath is hot on Sam’s face when he steps close to whisper, “I’m gonna rip your soul out of your chest and shred it just so lil’ _Cassie_ can watch it happen.”

_Close your eyes!!_ Sam wants to shout, because he can’t fight this, he knows he can’t. He doesn’t want Castiel, forced back into his own mind, into what could be an _awful, horrifying_ little space, to see Sam’s light go out. He doesn’t want that to be Castiel’s last memory of him. He wants Cassie to remember movie nights and costume parties and snacks and cuddles and sex, not pain and death, not for Sam’s little angel. But then Lucifer is forcing his hand into Sam’s chest and pain is all there is, no sight, no sound, just agony that threatens to break open his whole existence.

Sam collapses to the ground the moment that pain ceases.

“Oh, you little—”

When Lucifer moves towards him again, he can hardly sit up, but he still grabs him. “ _Get out of him!_ ”

“ _Sam, it’s me._ ”

Sam freezes, panting for breath. “Cas?”

Castiel is on his knees, trembling in place, his whole body a picture of strain. “It’s me,” he hisses, “It’s me, Sam, I’m—” his eyes clench shut and the sharp smell of ozone, of Castiel’s fight fills the room. “I’m here.”

“ _Force him out,_ ” Sam exclaims, “Force him out, right now, I—”

“I _can’t_ , I can’t, _Sammy,_ ” Castiel’s voice cracks, “It’s all I can do to keep him from killing you, I have to— I said yes because we need him.”

“We need _you!_ ”

Castiel’s mouth twitches towards a sad smile, wavering on his face as he struggles to stay in control. “You would’ve sacrificed yourself, too. I’m _not_ leaving Dean on that ship, I’m _not_ going to be the reason my brothers die,” he says haltingly, the pain that flashes through his face then is all for Sam, all for _them_ , “Not my Dee and Sammy.”

“Cas…” Sam warns, reaching for him.

“Finish this,” Castiel begs.

“Cas!!” Sam shouts, but then he has to shut his eyes against the blinding light of Castiel’s grace.

When he opens them, Castiel is gone and it feels like all the air in the Bunker is, too.

//

In the present, Sam tells Dean because he has to. They can’t do this if they lie to each other, they’ve learned that the hard way too many times to mess it up with something this heavy.

But when he sees the way Dean’s face goes from furious to broken open, it _guts_ him. He very nearly wishes he could take the words back, he wishes they’d never even gone to the cage. Sam hasn’t wanted to actively die in years, but he feels it hot and ugly in his throat right now.

“Dean,” he says, swallowing, “Dean, please say something.”

Dean shakes his head frantically, turning away.

“ _Dean_.”

“ _I can’t!!_ ” Dean— _Dee_ snaps, stumbling backwards, eyes wide and bright with fear. “I can’t, we were supposed to _protect_ him, he’s just a baby, Sammy, we can’t let _Lucifer_ …”

And just like that, right on the brink of tears, it’s that thought that does it. Dee gets shoved back and Dean Winchester, the stoic soldier, slides to the front and reasserts himself. It’s as close to in control as Dean can manage and Sam winces in the face of his brother’s sudden emptiness. “We’re getting him back,” he says flatly, not a promise, just a simple statement of fact.

The words have to be true or Dean can’t be anything else but this, Sam isn’t sure Dee can exist if anything else were to happen. Cassie is the base on which Dee’s littleness stands, if the bottom falls out—

“Yeah,” Sam agrees instantly, taking a breath and pushing his fear away. Sam has never wanted to be a soldier, but he is a _Big_ , and if his little is in danger, he can do anything he has to. He stands tall. “Yeah, we’re getting him back if we have to kill Lucifer to do it.”

//

They don’t kill Lucifer, go figure, but they’ll settle for Amara flinging him – a flash of light across the universe – from Castiel’s body. Watching him slump to the ground after is terrifying, but they stand in front of him, to shield him from the explosive failure of their plan. They watch the Darkness rise and God fall at her feet, and it’s probably a little prophetic that they run to Castiel before checking on Chuck.

When their little hodgepodge crew gets back to the bunker, the air is heavy with defeat but Sam can breathe around the shape of it, he’s familiar with defeat. His little is— _Castiel_ is back, he is awake and as safe as he can be all things considered. Dean has not gotten more than arm’s length away from him since they got back.

The plan is that they don’t fucking have a plan and are going to make it up as they go.

The plan is that they haven’t slept in over three days and Sam is starting to see spots. He wants to lie down, he wants to hug and kiss Castiel until neither of them can breathe, he wants to have been given a different life where none of this—

“Ok,” he says, rubbing his temples. “Ok. So we talk to her. Either she blows us to hell or she listens.”

Crowley laughs and Sam would muster up the strength to punch him if he didn’t know how ridiculous he sounded, if it wouldn’t move him away from where Castiel is sitting silently beside him. “Moose, I’m not going to—”

“He didn’t mean you,” Dean snaps, because no, Sam really didn’t. He looks up expecting to see Dean’s “barely-restrained-violence” face and goes cold when he registers Dean’s is face alight with emotion. He’s terrified, he’s mad, he’s not holding a single thing back like he doesn’t even know how or why he would.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees before Dee can roll himself into a proper tantrum. “You tell us if you hear anything about where she is, we’ll deal with it.”

“ _Deal with it_ ,” Crowley repeats, raising his eyebrows when Sam just shrugs.

“That’s what we do,” Sam sighs, rubbing his temples. “If we’re gonna die, we might as well try.”

Rowena looks up at him, looks already slightly drunk. “Hell, Sam, _we_ could offer you a better death than that!”

“Hard pass,” Dean barks.

“Unless you have a location, you—” Sam stands up, but before he can even step away from his chair, Castiel’s hand shoots out and catches his sleeve. “Cas?”

Castiel is seated perfectly still, head tilted down towards his lap. “That’s the best plan we have,” he says, but his fist is shaking and he still hasn’t let Sam go.

Sam sits back down, facing him. “Cas…” he says, frowning when Castiel flinches.

“Sam,” he replies, very softly then covers his mouth and sobs, “ _Sammy!_ ”

Abruptly, Sam can’t muster the ability to focus on anything else but his baby. He doesn’t even glance up when he says, “Fuck off, Crowley.”

For once, Crowley doesn’t say anything as he takes Rowena’s arm and fucks off.

Dean is right in Castiel’s space, practically in his chair, frantically petting and kissing his face. “Cassie, Cassie…” he says, again and again like he hasn’t yet learned any other words.

“ _Dee,_ ” Castiel sobs out, long and frightened one hand clenched in his own hair, one in Dean’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Shh, no, no, it’s ok,” Sam loops his arm around the back of Castiel’s chair, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s temple. “We’ve got you, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I _do_ ,” Castiel wails and Sam’s heart aches, he’s got his eyes shut like he’s afraid to even look at Sam. “I don’t want to be bad, I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t wanna be dirty, good babies aren’t _dirty._ ”

Dean makes a wounded sound and Sam can feel his chest caving in.

Sam pulls him into his arms and is set on ever letting go again. “I hate that there is anything in this world I can’t protect you from,” he begins, “I hate that _he_ ever got anywhere near you, I hate that he touched you that way, that he got to see a piece of you meant just for us.” He swallows the tears threatening to choke him, “but I do not hate _you_ , I could _never_.”

“We would never, _never_ , Cassie,” Dean promises, roughly rubbing Castiel’s back, a gentle hand stroking his cheek. “You’re _ours._ ”

Sam agrees. “We love you, just as much as we did before, nobody can take that from you. You don’t have to be a baby to have that, but you are still _our good little baby_ , Cassie. I’m not letting you go, no matter what.”

When Castiel cries then, it is less like a frightened child and more like a grieving man. Sam can’t touch the cause of his grief, but he and Dean press him between them, their bodies warm and comforting until he calms down. His voice is thick and tired when he whimpers out, “I love you”, but they whisper it back and kiss the tears from his cheeks and lips with no hesitation.

“Sammy,” Castiel sighs, like it’s a relief, his hand tight in Dean’s hair as Dean kisses his ear. “Dee.”

“Our Cassie,” Sam says, stroking Castiel’s hair, kissing the puffy corner of his eye.

//

The reason it works is that this love story—however twisted and tangled, however wrong, however painful—is a part of a gospel that has been written in time since time itself existed.

Castiel doesn’t say it feels a little like being abandoned, but Dean and Sam know the feeling well enough to not need him to voice the pain of staying behind. They watch Chuck and Amara preparing to disappear with mixed emotions, but mostly feeling like maybe The Winchester Gospel started with a different pair of siblings who loved each other too much.

Perhaps, Sam and Dean writing in a third sibling is what changes the story.

Lucifer’s new vessel is all his, impossibly bright even buried in the crook of Amara’s arm. There’s a violence coiled in Dean, aching low in Sam’s chest as Castiel stands half behind his shoulder, unnerved. It’s the fact that Lucifer is tiny and wailing, a terrified and confused baby, more than the fact that they’re standing before Alpha and Omega that keeps them from doing anything rash.

This is not Chuck’s universe anymore. It’s not Amara’s or Lucifer’s. It isn’t the human’s either, not entirely, but—as Chuck and Amara and their little one, Lou, leave it behind—the Winchester’s can live with having a true input in their own story for the first time in their lives.

Chuck is smiling at them, like he’s proud, maybe, but they don’t really return it. He clearly hadn’t expected them to, hadn’t expected any fond goodbyes. Just a smile and he takes Amara’s hand, before light overtakes them, all three of them.

As it happens, Castiel slots his hand shamelessly into Sam’s, Dean shoring up against his other side as the universe truly becomes godless. They both turn to Sam almost as one when the light leaves them alone, taking in the lost wonder filling Castiel’s eyes, the relief in Dean’s.

“Sammy?” Dean says softly, because something _big_ has happened, bigger than Dean can grasp.

It’s bigger than Sam can get his head around, too, really, but he knows at least this. “Yeah, boys,” he says, kissing him, tugging Castiel under his arm to nuzzle into his hair. “We’re gonna be ok.”

And so it was written, and so it was done.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…you can still be an angel, even if the devil got a hold of you first
> 
> Oh dear! Is this corny! Oh, is this what I’ve become!
> 
> Disclaimer! “If you’re gonna die, you might as well try” is not my quote, I read it on a message board years ago and I love it. Also, that last line is a bible reference, but I can't remember which verse...


End file.
